


it takes grit, it takes grace

by forpuckssake



Series: ice queen [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Women in the NHL, minor character injury, sexism at its finest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 00:32:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forpuckssake/pseuds/forpuckssake
Summary: The ice looked foreign. The fans sounded like their shouts were coming from underwater. The lights, though dim, looked far too bright.This was it.“Well?” came a voice from behind her. “It’s all you, kid. Take your lap.”Elle Queen closed her eyes, took a breath, and became the first woman to step onto the ice for her NHL rookie lap.





	it takes grit, it takes grace

**Author's Note:**

> everyone is probably so tired of "first woman in the nhl" stories but i don't care have another 
> 
> title taken from a meryl streep quote (because i love her):  
> "What does it take to be the first female anything? It takes grit, and it takes grace."
> 
> i wrote this at 3am when i was struck with inspiration and finished it at 7am, so it's probably real rough. i look over it for typos and mistakes but ya girl aint perfect so if you see something feel free to point it out.
> 
> also i definitely plan on writing more for this sorry not sorry
> 
> this is a work of fiction but if you are/know anyone affiliated with nhl hockey i suggest you turn back now

It started out as a normal day.

Her first alarm went off at seven that Monday morning, and she immediately hit snooze before burying her face further into her pillow.

Right on cue, someone started banging on her wall.

“I heard that!” came a muffled voice.

“Leave me alone!” Elle yelled back, her whiny voice rough with sleep.

Elle briefly wondered why she had thought having a roommate would be a good idea, especially when they were as dedicated to hockey as Theo was.

She could hear him rustling around his bedroom and then stomp into the hallway before arriving at her door. He knocked on that next, and he refused to stop until Elle rolled out of bed with a groan. She pulled open the door to squint at her roommate, who was smiling and looking far too chipper for someone that had literally just rolled out of bed moments before her.

“What’s your secret?” she demanded, not for the first time. “Did you get up and make coffee and then go back to your room to look better than me?”

“I would never attempt to look better than you, babe,” Theo said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We both know you win in looks.”

As Elle stood there in a stained t-shirt that was three sizes too big for her with holes in the collar, choppy hair barely in its braid, and pillow creases across her cheek, she was fairly certain that she would not be winning in looks at that moment.

Elle sighed and stretched her arms above her head, rising to her toes as her shoulders and back popped. “We running this morning?”

“Depends. Are you awake enough to run without falling on your face?”

“Never.”

Theo snickered. “See you in ten,” he said, disappearing into the hall bathroom that was his.

Elle closed her bedroom door and went to her own bathroom, which was attached to her room. When they had moved into the apartment together, Theo had been insistent that she take the room with the attached bathroom so that she could have her privacy from the other guys on the team when they came over.

It was probably for the best. Her bathroom smelled like vanilla thanks to the oil plugin attached to the wall, and she had passed by Theo’s enough to know that boys would only ruin the cleanliness and scent that she so enjoyed.

She emerged from her room ten minutes later as Theo had requested, teeth brushed, face washed, and hair fixed in a tighter braid to keep it out of her face. She shuffled to the kitchen, where Theo was already finishing up a banana and had drank half a bottle of Gatorade.

“Ready when you are,” Elle said, rising on her toes and stretching her calves.

 

* * *

 

 

They returned an hour later, and Elle felt much more awake.

“You make eggs and I’ll get the toast and coffee?”

Theo nodded from where he hovered by the fridge, Gatorade in hand. “You got it.”

Contrary to stereotypical belief, Elle couldn’t cook for shit. Toast and pressing a button on the coffee machine was about all she was capable of in the morning. When Theo wasn’t in the mood for making food, she usually went to Dunkin or she would make cereal, and even then she was often incapable of making that without spilling something.

She was also banned from using the microwave after The Spoon Incident of Halloween, but it was something that neither she nor Theo talked about.

They ate breakfast and sipped their coffee in relative silence, browsing social media on their phones to catch up with anything that had happened over night. Of course, there was pretty much nothing, but Elle cackled and showed Theo a video of a dog slipping all over the ice trying to snatch a hockey puck from whoever was stick handling it away from her.

They didn’t bother to shower or change when they left for the rink. Still disheveled from their run, they got into Elle’s car because it was her turn to drive, and she drove to the rink with Taylor Swift blasting through the speakers.

They entered the locker room, which was loud and energized despite the early hour.

“Queenie, ya gotta see what Lou did last night.” The captain of the Phantoms, Mac, was suddenly at Elle’s side, phone in hand. “I posted this on Twitter like ten minutes ago and the internet is already losing its mind.”

He pressed play on a video which showed his youngest child and only daughter, Louise. She was wearing a small jersey with QUEEN and the number 13 on the back, face down on the carpet of the family living room. She was crying loudly, flailing her little arms and legs in a tantrum.

_“What’s wrong, Lou?”_

_“Wanna play!”_

_“Wanna play what?”_

_“Hockey!”_ Louise hiccupped. _“Wanna play hockey!”_

“Oh my gosh, my heart,” Elle squeaked, covering her face with her hands. Mac cackled.

 _“You’re a little young and small to play hockey, Lou-Lou,”_ Mac tried to tell his three-year-old.

 _“Elle play!”_ Louise screamed, flailing even more. _“Elle play! Elle small!”_

“Okay, I’m hurt,” Elle decided, trying to ignore the cackling and snickering of her teammates that were listening.

Mac was still laughing as he closed the video. “Ever since you gave her that jersey all she’s talked about is you and hockey. _Elle this_ and _Elle that_ , or _I want to play hockey_.” He shook his head. “We didn’t even sign the boys up until they were five. How am I going to deal with another two years of this?”

“It’s not my problem,” Elle said brightly, practically skipping off to her stall.

The video had made her day. She had already been in a good mood despite going on a run that morning, but seeing that anyone out there, even if it was her captain’s daughter, looked up to her and wanted to play hockey because of her, was exactly what she wished she’d had as a kid.

They all dressed quickly to get onto the ice, and just as they were walking down the tunnel, the coach was grabbing at Elle’s sleeve and pulling her to the side.

She had a brief moment of panic. Being pulled to the side never failed to make her wonder if this was the day she would be benched or cut from the team. Instead, she heard the words she had been dying to hear for years, words she never thought she would hear.

“You’re being called up. The Flyers want you to play for them.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was the worst practice that she had ever had with the Phantoms.

“You’re not focusing,” Mac said when he pulled her aside. “Get out of your head, kid.”

Elle really wished she could, but it wasn’t every day you were told you were about to make history and be the first woman to step out onto the ice of a regular season NHL game. She couldn’t say that, of course—she hadn’t told anyone on her team yet, and management hadn’t told anyone but her either, so she had no excuse to be letting in as many shots as she was.

“Sorry, Mac,” she said, and tried to do better.

 

* * *

 

 

“You okay, Queenie?”

Elle looked up from where she was sitting in her stall, meeting the concerned gazes of some of her teammates. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Theo frowned. “You sure? You seem kind of out of it, babe.”

Across the locker room, someone screamed, “Queenie got called up!”

A chorus of _what?_ and _no_ _way!_ and, her personal favorite, _about fucking time_ , all rose throughout the room.

Theo’s head had whipped around to stare at their teammate before focusing once again on Elle. “When did you find out?” he demanded.

“… Right before practice.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“That’s why you were in your head,” Mac realized, but he seemed far too happy to care. “Why the hell are you still here, kid? Shouldn’t you be on your way to Philly?”

“They don’t have a practice until noon.”

“Well, get moving! It’s already close to eleven.”

“But Theo—”

“I’ll drop him off,” Mac reassured her. “Get changed and get going, Queenie. You have big things to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Elle made the mistake of checking her phone as she left the rink. There were notifications from twitter, Instagram, and more texts than she could count. She only focused on one, though.

She called her brother as soon her phone connected to her car’s Bluetooth, pulling out of the parking lot as it rang.

Her brother picked up on the second ring. “My sister is an NHL goalie!” he screamed, and Elle laughed despite the piercing volume.

“Not officially,” Elle said. “I’m being called to be an emergency backup. I won’t even play tomorrow.”

“Shut up and let me be proud, dammit.”

Elle laughed again. “I appreciate it, Cal, but I doubt I’ll even get a chance to play.”

As twins, Elle had been eligible for the same draft that her brother had, so they had submitted their names together when they were just eighteen. Calvin had gone in the second round to Montreal, which had hurt Elle more than she cared to admit, especially when she was drafted four rounds later to the Flyers.

Calvin had been playing in the NHL since he was nineteen, and Elle was finally getting something close at twenty-one. She couldn’t deny being relieved to even be considered as an emergency callup.

“Are you saying you’re not excited anyway?” Calvin demanded. “’Cause you should be.”

“Yes, Cal, I am excited to sit on a bench during an NHL game,” Elle assured him sarcastically.

She could practically hear Calvin roll his eyes. “Shut up,” he said again. He paused. “For tomorrow’s game, you said?”

“Yeah, against the Pens at home.”

“Ooh that’s gonna be a good one. Lucky for you, we face the Devils tonight and I’m off tomorrow, so I’m just a short drive away for your first game.”

“You really don’t have to, Cal.”

“I don’t have to do a lot of things,” Calvin agreed sagely. “But you came to my first game. Why shouldn’t I go to yours?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Elle tried to convince him. “Like I said, I probably won’t even play.”

“Yeah, and I probably won’t listen to you try to convince me not to go,” Calvin shot back. “I’ll call ya later, I have to get in a nap before the game tonight.”

“’Kay. Bye, Cal.”

“Later.”

 

* * *

 

 

Reporters swarmed her car the minute Elle parked, and she had to grab her stuff and book it to the players’ entrance to avoid having a camera or a phone shoved in her face.

Once she was in the building, everything was much better. The goalie coach was waiting for her right by the door, beaming when he caught sight of you. “I hope the drive was okay,” he said cheerily, grabbing her sticks from her arms.

“It was fine,” Elle said. She hated small-talk, but as a hockey player, she knew others were quite fond of mundane conversation, so she often fought through it. “Where are you putting me?”

The goalie coach blinked. “Uh, the locker room?” He frowned. “Do you need a separate room? When we talked with the Phantoms staff they said—”

“Oh yeah, that’s totally fine,” Elle quickly reassured. “Some teams I played with were just really weird about me being with the guys. I don’t mind it.”

“Great.” He beamed. “Everyone is really excited to have you here.”

Elle seriously doubted that. She remembered the last couple years of preseason, where only a couple of guys had seemed to genuinely accept her presence with the organization. She still heard shitty things from the people around her—she was too small to play, too slow, her save percentage too low. She had heard everything, and she knew that most of the team would not be happy to have her around.

“I’m excited to be here,” Elle said instead of voicing her doubts.

He walked her to the locker room, and she could hear the chatter from the guys on the team long before she saw them. The Flyers barely glanced up as she came in, instead focusing on getting ready for practice.

Aaron Kelley was the only one to zero in on her the minute she entered the room.

“Queenie!” he cheered, and then launched himself at her.

She dropped her bag so that she could hug him back. “AK!” she yelled, grabbing her friend in a tight hug.

Aaron released her and stepped back, practically vibrating with excited. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said genuinely, and Elle beamed.

Aaron Kelley had been the Flyers’ first round pick the same year she had been drafted, and he had been one of the only people to accept her without her needing to prove herself first. He had been someone she could depend on both on and off the ice, calling out other prospects for saying sexist things, backing her up when she did the calling out herself, and offering her support when it felt like the entire world was against her.

It helped that he was just as good of a hockey player that he was a person. Being nicknamed AK wasn’t just for his initials—his jersey number, 47, paired with AK was to indicate that his shot was hard and quick like a gun, like the AK-47 itself. It was fitting.

“How are the Phantoms treating you?” he asked.

“Good,” Elle said. “We’re doing good. I’m our starter this year, which has been super fun, and we’re winning more than we’re losing. I can’t complain.”

“That’s good,” Aaron hummed in agreement. He grinned. “God, this is gonna be great!”

Elle laughed. “I certainly hope so.”

She was guided to an empty stall next to the backup goalie, a guy she had only met a few times named Nikita “Nik” Nikitin. The empty stall she was sat at had the name Carter Hart 79 above it, and Elle frowned.

“Is Hartsy okay?” she asked. She had met Carter Hart briefly during training camps and preseason games, and though they weren’t what one would call friends, he was still a decent guy, and he never treated her different from anyone else on the team.

Nik looked up, finally noticing her, and shook his head with a pinched expression. “Flu,” he said shortly, but then smiled to show that it wasn’t her he was upset with, but their main goalie being out. Even if he wasn’t upset outwardly by her presence, she was well aware that he wasn’t the biggest fan of women in the NHL. It startled her when he added, “Good thing Queenie here, yes?”

Elle smiled back hesitantly and took the empty stall, setting out her gear.

Nik wrinkled his nose at her. “You have practice this morning?”

“Yeah, I came straight here from practice.”

He snickered. “Smell like locker room.”

Elle snorted. “Sorry not all of us can smell like flowers and sunshine,” she said sarcastically. “I have better things to do than shower. Like practice.”

“Please shower after this, can’t stand smell,” Nik teased, and Elle beamed. She felt a whole lot better knowing that the goalie she was backing up would at least act professionally.

Once she was all strapped into her gear and in her practice jersey, the captain of the Flyers, Travis Konecny, made his way over to her. His alternates, Nolan Patrick and Ivan Provorov, flanked his sides.

Travis smiled pleasantly and offered his hand, and Elle removed her blocker to accept the handshake. “Good to have you here, Elle,” he said. “Let us know if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do,” Elle said, shaking hands with Nolan and Ivan as well.

 

* * *

 

 

Practice was frustrating, to say the least.

Nik was in net for longer than she was, obviously, as the current starting goalie. He was a decent backup to Carter Hart, solid in almost every area, but she noticed a weakness in shots over his glove side. He managed to stop most of them, but more of those shots slipped in than any other shots his teammates took at him.

No one said anything to Elle as she took her place in the net for her turn, but no one had to. Their shots said it all. They sent soft shots that were easy to block or glove, the kind of shots one might send at their kids in ball hockey in a basement or driveway rather than a goalie during an NHL game. Elle realized that players often took softer shot at their goalies, but the shots she was getting were much easier than the ones that Nik had to deal with.

After the tenth easy shot she caught in a row, Elle was beginning to get frustrated. She stood up in net and skated over to Travis, her shoulders tense with irritation.

“You can tell them to take better shots at me,” she said quietly, trying not to sound like she was whining or complaining. “I’m not a peewee goalie. I can take the same kind of shots that Nik can.”

Travis nodded curtly. “They’re just weird about shooting on a girl, I guess. I’ll tell ‘em.”

Elle felt herself bristling to hear the captain say something like that. “I may be a girl, but I’m also your backup. I’m the best you’ve got after Nik, so it’s stupid if I’m only getting easy shots. The Penguins won’t care who’s in net; they’re going to shoot to win.”

Travis nodded again without saying anything and skated over to whoever was waiting for their next shot while Elle returned to the net.

The shot whizzed by her shoulder into the net, and Elle grinned despite the unimpressed look sent her way by the defenseman that had just sent the puck at her.

“Good enough for you?” he called mockingly, shuffling another puck to take a second shot.

Elle readied herself. She was ready to prove them all wrong. “Could be better,” she chirped, and made sure to stop the next one.

 

* * *

 

 

Theo was sitting on the couch playing Fortnite when she returned to the apartment later that afternoon.

“Shouldn’t you be napping?” she asked, throwing her keys in the bowl by the door. “You have a game tonight.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Theo said, pausing his game. He frowned at her as she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, dude.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Theo snorted. “It’s written all over your face. Did they say something shitty to you?”

“No, Theo, no one said anything shitty to me,” Elle said slowly. “Same shit, different day.”

“Meaning?”

Elle rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. They started off taking shots at me like I was made of glass or some shit, same way everyone here did when I first joined the team, same way the new guys still do. They got over it pretty quickly.” She didn’t mention her brief conversation with Travis.

Theo narrowed his eyes at her. “Okay,” he said, obviously not believing her. He unpaused his game.

“AK says hi.”

“My favorite Flyer,” Theo sighed dreamily.

“Your favorite Flyer is Nolan Patrick, you liar.”

“My favorite _young_ Flyer.”

Elle snickered, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m still going to go to the game tonight,” Elle said eventually. “Even if the Flyers don’t want me to play, I’ll still be there as backup.”

“Good,” Theo hummed. “We’re all going to your game tomorrow, too.”

Elle snorted. “Really now? Aren’t tickets usually sold out for Pens-Flyers games?”

“Yeah, but we’re the Phantoms. We make shit happen,” Theo retorted, cursing as he was killed in the game. “Are you going to nap before the game?”

“No,” Elle admitted. “My nerves are everywhere. I won’t be able to sleep for a while.”

“Cool. Grab another controller so I can kick your ass.”

“In your dreams, jackass.”

 

* * *

 

 

Elle dressed for the game with the Phantoms and ended up sitting on the bench, just in case Petey needed to be pulled for any reason. She sat there the entire night, watching her team score goal after goal and cheering after the final buzzer when they won 5-2 against Hershey.

The Flyers had their helmet to pass around after games, but the Phantoms had something even better: a game tiara. It was pink and plastic and a gift from Louise, who had cried until her father agreed that it looked nice with his game day outfit almost two years ago and worn it on his way in. The Phantoms had won that game, and it had been a tradition ever since to pass it around after a win.

The last person to have it had been a defenseman, Josh, and he passed it on to Petey with a flourish.

Petey took it and gave the obligatory speech by request of the team, saying the normal clichés— _good game boys, we played hard tonight, let’s keep the momentum_ —and when he was done and everyone went back to packing their things and heading off to the showers, he returned to his stall and placed it on Elle’s head.

“You got this, Queenie.”

It was all the encouragement Elle needed.

 

* * *

 

 

Morning practice on a game day was horrendous, Elle soon discovered.

She pulled into the parking lot and was immediately swamped by the media, but one of the PR staff for the Flyers swooped in with the promise that she would be available after practice for a short time.

“I will be?” Elle squawked, bewildered. She was being ushered inside while the media snapped photos and shouted questions behind her. “I’m not even playing tonight.”

The woman—Natalie something or other—simply shrugged. “It’s still a big deal. No woman has even dressed for a regular season NHL game, so you’re making history tonight, kid.”

“Oh. No biggie,” Elle said, feeling suddenly hysterical and anxious.

Nik greeted her with a fist-bump and a smile, but they dressed in relative silence as everyone else got ready and chattered around her.

“You actually gonna block some shots today, Elle?” Ivan chirped, but he was grinning, and his tongue was poking out between his teeth.

“Depends. You gonna send shots my way worth blocking?” Elle shot back, and Ivan barked out a laugh.

Stepping onto the ice for the actual practice was fine. She ignored the media and the fans in the stands and focused on stretching and her time in net. It was _after_ practice that made Elle want to disappear forever.

She didn’t know how she got from the showers to sitting in front of the media at her stall, but they were suddenly all around her.

“How does it feel to be the first woman dressing for a regular season game?” someone asked.

Ah, a softball question. Elle relaxed a little. “It’s pretty cool. I’ve been dreaming of this since my brother and I started playing as kids, so it’s really awesome to be here.”

“Are you concerned at all about playing the Penguins?”

“Not really. I’m just here to be Nik’s backup until Hartsy is ready again, but if I have to be put in net, it’s just like any other game.”

“How have you reacted to hockey fans on social media?”

Elle blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re asking. Real fans are supportive of me, and I’m very grateful for that, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Let me rephrase: how have you reacted to fans saying that you shouldn’t be allowed to play for your own safety? There’s also talk about how your opponents wouldn’t play to their full potential with you in net because they will be worried about injuring you.”

Elle felt the tension return to her shoulders. She thought about responding politely like she had been told to do time and time again, especially after that disaster of an interview when she had been drafted and ripped the reporter a new one.

She looked over at Natalie, whose eyes seemed to be silently begging her to be polite and no-comment her way out of the question.

Elle had been painted as a good girl since the incident to try and smooth ruffled feathers, but there was only so much patience someone of her slightly smaller size could possess.

“Hockey is a fast, high impact, and often dangerous sport. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t fully aware of that.” She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, trying to smooth her expression into one of cool indifference. “And if the other team wants to go easy on me, that’s their prerogative. I can’t say that the rest of my team is going to go as easy on _their_ goalie.”

“ _O_ -kay,” Natalie interrupted. “Elle needs to get going, so that’s all for today. Travis will take questions over there, if you don’t mind…”

 

* * *

 

 

Elle returned to the apartment and slammed the door. Theo nearly fell out of his chair at the kitchen island where he was eating his sandwich.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, straightening up and swallowing his last bite.

“People suck,” Elle snarled, dropping her keys into the dish. “I don’t know why I continue to expect more knowing that nothing ever changes.”

“True,” Theo hummed. “Did you get the question about your safety again?”

Elle opened the fridge to grab a Gatorade. “How is it you always know?”

“You’ve been getting the same question for years, just phrased differently. I feel like you get asked _at least_ twice during every training camp.”

“More than that, usually, but yeah.”

Theo nodded, taking another thoughtful bite of his sandwich. “Did you go off?”

“No, not as much as I wanted to.”

“Damn. I would have loved to see you pop off again.”

“It wasn’t even that funny the first time it happened, dude. I feel like they definitely use that video in PR training alongside Tyler Seguin tweets to show the rookies what _not_ to do.”

“I still lose my shit every time I see that video. Highlight of my career.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna nap,” she said, and then chugged half of her Gatorade before putting it back in the fridge.

“Sweet dreams, Queenie.”

 

* * *

 

 

Elle would not have sweet dreams. She made the mistake of checking social media as she climbed into her bed.

The first post she saw was one from the NHL account on Instagram, which had a picture of her from practice with a caption talking about her being the first woman to dress for an NHL game. The comments under it were less than positive.

_lmao the flyers would have a better chance with hart puking his guts out in net than her_

_oh look another publicity stunt to make females think they have a chance of ever playing lol_

_who did she have to sleep with for the callup??_

There was no way she could sleep after that, so she crawled out of bed and headed back to the kitchen, where Theo was cleaning the stove. He looked up and silently held out his hand, which she willingly placed her phone into.

“I forgot to warn you not to check anything,” he said apologetically, unlocking her phone. “I know you do that before you nap.”

“It’s not your fault,” Elle said hollowly.

Theo shrugged, and then handed her phone back to her after a moment. “Ignore all those dumbasses that have never played a day of hockey in their life and look at the comments on this instead.”

He had gone to her twitter and pulled up what was trending, and #icequeen was trending at number three. “You should check that hashtag out,” he said. “It’s great, I promise. You might even find something from your favorite roommate,” he added with a wink.

Elle scrolled through the tag.

_IT’S HAPPENING WE HAVE A #ICEQUEEN DEBUT_

_LA Kings who?? I only know one royal hockey player and it’s @icequeenelle #icequeen_

Elle nearly chocked on her spit as she scrolled. “Holy shit, Claude Giroux tweeted about me!”

Theo rolled his eyes. “You’re late for that one. Even the Flyers Instagram already posted screenshots, babe.”

Elle obviously hadn’t gotten that far on Instagram before being distracted by all the nasty comments about her instead. “Good luck tonight to a true hockey queen,” she read. “ _Oh my god Claude Giroux tweeted about me.”_

Theo snickered and then snatched her phone back from her. “On that happy note, go take your nap. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

 

* * *

 

 

Theo knocked on her door a little while later. “Time to get up,” he called.

Elle was normally slow to rise, but she sat up fast and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. She had been asleep for two hours, which was a miracle considering she had been so certain she wouldn’t be able to sleep following her browsing of Instagram.

“Thanks,” she called back, and then leaped into action.

She emerged from her room half an hour later, and Theo whistled when he caught sight of her. “You trying to cut a bitch with those wings?” he asked, staring at her eyes.

“That’s the plan,” she replied cheerily.

“They’re gonna talk shit about you wearing makeup to a game.”

“I do it at our _own_ games,” Elle protested. “I’m not about to ruin my routine for a bunch of misognysts. Besides, they’re gonna talk shit anyway. Might as well have a bomb-ass photo of me to go with whatever Deadspin decides to post, y’know?”

Theo whooped. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

Elle grinned. “Me either, but it is.” She marched off toward the door to grab her keys. “You know I gotta get my pregame meal.”

Theo perked up. “Can I come?”

“Duh, it’s tradition, ya nerd.”

Theo whooped louder than before.

They found themselves in a Tropical Smoothie parking lot twenty minutes later, smoothies and wraps in hand.

“I love this tradition,” Theo said around a mouthful of food. “Don’t forget about me when you make it to the big leagues.”

Elle snorted. “I’ll be back down here before you know it, and I’ll still be here when you make your debut. _I_ should be the one asking _you_ not to forget about _me_.”

“Shut the fuck up, I could _never_ drink Bahama Mama with anyone else.”

Elle cackled, and for a moment, everything was alright.

 

* * *

 

 

The locker room was, in a word, tense.

Guys weren’t talking and joking like they had been earlier, instead choosing to get ready in silence. Some of them went about their pregame superstitions and rituals, which was normal, but even the guys that didn’t have superstitions were oddly quiet.

Elle decided right away that she didn’t like it, but she _did_ like the sight of the big 13 underneath QUEEN on a Flyers orange jersey.

She ran her hand over it, not quite believing that it was _hers_.

Nik was the only one that seemed to notice her awe. “Okay?” he asked her, but he was grinning.

Elle felt like her heart might beat right out of her chest. “Never better,” she said, and she meant it.

She also dressed in silence, strapping into her pads and running her hands over her helmet, which had the Phantoms logo on each side and her mom, dad, and brother’s names running along the bottom. She thought back to the text she had received just as she was arriving at the rink from her mom, wishing her luck and saying how proud she was, and that she couldn’t wait to cheer her on from the stands.

Another text that had nearly made her cry was from Mac. It was a picture of Louise strapped in a car seat beside her brothers, grinning toothily for the camera with her Queen jersey on. The text that came with it was _your biggest fan is excited to see you tonight!_

She hadn’t realized how long she had been staring at her helmet until Travis was suddenly looming at her side, frowning. “You good?” he asked.

Elle nodded stiffly. “Yeah,” she said, shoving it onto her head. “I’m good.”

He grinned. “Great. You better get in front of the line, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

The ice looked foreign. The fans sounded like their shouts were coming from underwater. The lights, though dim, looked far too bright.

This was it.

“Well?” came a voice from behind her. “It’s all you, kid. Take your lap.”

Elle Queen closed her eyes, took a breath, and became the first woman to step onto the ice for her NHL rookie lap.

It was then that her ears decided to properly work as the entire arena _screamed_. She skated around the ice by herself, basking in the cool air rushing up from the cold surface. The rest of the Flyers were suddenly circling around the ice with her, and the lights came up.

Elle didn’t know what was louder: her heartbeat, or the crowd. She felt nearly dizzy as she skated off to the side to stretch while Nik took his place in goal to warmup.

She looked around as she stretched, reading some of the signs that she could see against the glass. Most of them were for Travis and Nolan and Nik, but Elle caught sight of a few that were for her.

_Welcome, Elle Queen!_

_Hey Queen #13 can I have a puck?_

_Biggest Elle Queen fan!_

_Everyone is a peasant in comparison to the QUEEN_

Elle couldn’t help but cackle madly at that last one. She stood after stretching, and Nik was still in net, so she grabbed a puck and tossed it over the glass for the little girl with the sign asking for a puck.

There was banging on the glass a few feet to the girl’s right, and that’s where she found Mac with his kids. Louise was perched on his shoulders, leaning forward with her small hands on the glass, wide eyes focused on Elle.

Elle held up her hand against the glass, which Louise was quick to bang her hand against with a big grin. Elle tossed her a puck, patted the glass again, and turned back to the rest of the team warming up.

 

* * *

 

 

As was customary whenever the Flyers faced the Penguins, the game was brutal.

It didn’t matter that most of the guys from the original rivalry were retired because the animosity remained. By the ten-minute mark of the first period, there had already been two scrums and three penalties, and one goal that belonged to the Penguins despite the Flyers having more shots on goal.

The first period ended without much fanfare, especially since the Penguins were officially up by two, and the Flyers had yet to score. Coach Gordon ripped into them in the locker room, telling them to pull their heads out of their asses and keep the Penguins out of their zone.

Elle knew that none of it was directed at her—she was on the bench, so she had nothing to do with what happened on the ice—but winced anyway. Being yelled at was never fun.

The second period was a shit show.

Two minutes in, there was a battle for the puck right in front of the net, and Nik dived forward for the puck when it emerged from clacking sticks. Just as his glove was closing around it, one of the Penguins also lunged forward, sending his knee right into the side of Nik’s helmet. The knee sent Nik’s helmet flying off of his head while also managing to collide with his temple.

Elle gasped, and the entire bench was yelling and screaming as the official blew the whistle.

One of the Flyers—Elle was pretty sure it was AK—threw down his gloves and leaped at the Penguin, snarling and throwing punches. The other Flyers were gathered around Nik, kneeling over to check on him while Travis helped a trainer onto the ice and skated by his side over to their goalie.

Coach Gordon grabbed her shoulder. “Suit up,” he said grimly.

Elle’s entire brain stopped working for a moment. She stared at Nik, who was moving, but not making any effort to get up. Heart sinking into her stomach, she grabbed her mask and hopped onto the ice.

It took a few minutes, but Nik was able to get back on his feet with help, and Travis and the trainer guided him toward the bench. He looked up at Elle was he passed, holding out his blocker. Elle tapped him back.

“Win it,” he ordered, gaze hard.

Elle nodded firmly, put on her helmet, and skated toward the net while the fans cheered.

 

* * *

 

 

It was easy for all of two minutes, but that was because the Flyers were on a power play for goalie interference. After those two minutes, though, Elle experienced the most stress-filled game of her entire _life_.

The first save she made was on the easier side. The puck came from a shot on the other end of the ice, and she easily batted it away to one of the defensemen as they came skating after it, which sent the puck right back into the Penguin’s zone.

Her first official save she made was from a breakaway. Jake Guentzel, a veteran and captain of the Penguins, came streaking up the ice with the same speed that had made him so dangerous even as a new guy in the league. He shot for her blocker side, and Elle dived at the puck, sending it sliding away.

The Flyers scored their first goal twenty seconds later. Elle let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and took a drink of water.

The faceoff returned to center ice, and Elle readied herself for whatever came next.

Twelve saves later, the buzzer sounded to indicate the end of the second period. Aaron was on the ice, and he skated up to her and patted her helmet, murmuring encouragements as they went off together.

The locker room was somber as Coach Gordon gave them a much-needed pep talk. They were still down by one, and Nik was confirmed to be out for the rest of the game, just as a precaution.

Elle highly doubted it was ‘just a precaution.’ Unless he had a concussion or sustained another injury, he would be taking his place back in net and sending Elle back to the bench, and yet, there she was, preparing to go in for the third period.

She couldn’t help but think of the intense look in his eyes when he skated by her, entrusting the game to her since he could no longer do anything. _Win it_ , he had said, and damn if Elle wasn’t going to try her hardest to make sure she could follow through.

The Flyers scored seven minutes into the third period, and the Penguins responded by scoring not even a full minute later. Elle felt like absolute shit as the Penguins celebrated off to her right while she sat on her butt on the ice, staring blankly at where the puck sat just beside her.

She really hated Jake Guentzel for his ramen noodle hair on a good day, but now she also hated him for scoring on her.

Nolan skated up to her. “It’s just one,” he said firmly. “You’re allowed one. Stop the rest.”

Elle took a deep breath, nodded, and climbed back to her feet.

Thankfully, she managed to stop the next three shots that came her way, and the Flyers scored a few minutes later, leaving both teams tied 3-3 as the time on the jumbotron ticked down.

“One minute remaining,” a voice over the loudspeaker warned, and Elle steeled herself to play for several more minutes in overtime.

She really had no reason to worry. The Flyers were a last-second kind of team, which they proved when Travis shot the puck right over the Penguin goalie’s shoulder with less than five seconds remaining on the clock.

There was one last faceoff at center ice, which the Flyers won and managed to keep position of before the final buzzer sounded. Elle threw down her stick and put her hands in the air, screaming at the top of her lungs as the entire bench rushed onto the ice and piled all around her, yelling and screaming their congratulations.

“You fuckin’ did it!” Aaron shouted right in her ear, and Elle screamed back at him.

She ended up with the second star of the game, which, _wow_.

The spotlight was on her as she skated in a slow, lazy circle around the ice before tossing a puck over the glass and escaping down the tunnel.

The media was having a field day when she returned. They barely allowed time for the game helmet to be passed to Travis for the winning goal before the media were let into the room and swarming her.

“How does it feel to be the first woman to play in the NHL?”

“Can I curse?”

“We’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Sorry, then. All of my feelings involve expletives right now.”

There were a few chuckles around her.

“Were you nervous?”

“The entire time.”

More chuckles. “You seemed very calm and collected, even when that one puck managed to get by you.”

“Oh, that was _definitely_ fake. I thought I was going to throw up,” Elle admitted with a nervous laugh.

“We saw Nikitin say something to you before he left the ice, and Nolan Patrick after the Guentzel goal. Were they words of encouragement?”

Elle actually laughed at that. “No. Nik said only two words to me: win it. Patty told me to stop the rest. Very bossy, these Flyers boys.”

“Did you get the game puck for your first win?”

Elle frowned. “No, I don’t think so. I kind of forgot about it. I’m still experiencing an adrenalin rush, I think.”

“We got it for you!” Ivan called over from his stall, and Nolan held up a puck with tape around it.

“They got it,” Elle repeated to the reporters, grinning.

“With the reported upper body injury to Nikitin, do you expect to be sticking around for a while?”

“I don’t expect anything,” Elle replied. “If they need me, they’ll let me know, but nothing is ever guaranteed in this league. They could call up another goalie from somewhere else and send me back to the Phantoms, which is their right, of course. I would love to stay for as long as they’ll have me, but if it’s at the cost of Nik’s health… I wouldn’t wish injury on anyone, and I would gladly go back to the Phantoms if it meant he could play.”

They asked stupid media questions after that, of course, the usual _What was it like experiencing the rivalry? Anything to say about the defense on that Guentzel goal?_

Of course, some asshole had to ruin it.

“Are you wearing _makeup_?”

Ah, there it was, just as Theo had warned her.

Elle looked over at the reporter that had asked and stared him right in the eye with her best impression of her mother when she was done putting up with her and Calvin’s bullshit as kids.

“Yes, I am.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “You wore makeup to a hockey game.”

“Yup, I confirmed that already,” Elle said calmly. Feeling particularly bold with the adrenalin still running through her, she asked, “Why? Is it distracting?”

“I just don’t understand why you felt the need to wear it.”

“Because I wanted to?” Elle quirked an eyebrow at him. “I like wearing makeup.”

“Oh? So it wasn’t to impress anyone on the team? Or anyone from the Penguins?”

“You think I got ready today and thought, oh, the guys are gonna _love_ my winged liner?” Elle snorted. “ _Please_. Men don’t even know the difference between concealer and foundation. No one cares. I wore it for _me_.”

“So you care more about how you _look_ than preparing for the game?”

“Well, _some of us_ have to look presentable, y’know, especially when there are people like you out there who think that tie you’ve got on is actually _nice_.”

“ _Okay_ , that’s all for tonight,” Natalie piped up. She sounded almost like she was close to laughing, and Elle briefly wondered if she hadn’t stopped the disastrous interview before then because she was enjoying it too much.

Aaron was openly cackling in his stall, and he made no attempt to hide it as the reporters were ushered out of the room. He wiped a tear from his eye.

“That reminds me of that one video from when you got drafted—”

“ _Please_ never speak of it again. I will never live that down. Theo still watches it occasionally.”

“Me too!” Aaron choked, and then started laughing all over again.

Elle rolled her eyes and headed off to shower. She did her best to stay in the corner with her back turned to everyone as she attempted to clean away game day sweat, and when she turned around with her towel, she found that the other guys had also turned their backs to one side to give her more privacy.

Feeling inexplicably happy, Elle left the showers to change back into her game day dress.

 

* * *

 

 

Her mother looked close to tears when Elle finally went to go see her family, cameras in tow.

She sniffled loudly as she clung to her daughter in a hug, and even her father looked a bit misty-eyed. Calvin grinned from behind them, waiting for his turn to hug Elle once their parents had released her.

Elle rubbed her hand along the shoulder of the orange Flyers jersey he was wearing. She could make out the number 13 on the arm.

“Your fans are going to throw a fit,” she joked, but she was very obviously pleased.

“Let them,” Calvin said. “They’ll just be jealous that I’ll have a signed Queen jersey and they don’t.”

Elle rolled her eyes, and then moved onto Mac and his wife and their minis, who were in attendance.

Louise was practically bouncing where she was clinging to Mac’s leg. “Good game!” she said, holding out her tiny hand for a fist bump.

“Thanks, Lou-Lou,” Elle said, opening her arms for Louise to happily jump into. She exchanged fist-bumps with Mac’s sons, both of who were just as ecstatic about the game as Louise had been, and accepted a hug and a kiss to the cheek from Mac’s wife.

Mac reached out and ruffled her damp hair, causing it to look like a complete mess again. “The other guys wanted me to congratulate you on their behalf. They wouldn’t let us all stick around.”

“I appreciate it, I really do,” Elle said softly, and hugged him briefly. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me.”

“Are you kidding? We just witnessed _history_ ,” Mac snorted. “Wouldn’t miss it, kid.”

“You really did it,” her dad added, and even he still sounded awed.

Elle grinned. Yeah, she really had.


End file.
